


On Edge

by IndecisiveAndUncreative



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Shared Fantasies, Asshole Terry Milkovich, Homophobic Language, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Build, art student!mickey, slight dubcon?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2018-10-19 11:31:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10638957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndecisiveAndUncreative/pseuds/IndecisiveAndUncreative
Summary: Mickey hated being an Object. He hated feeling disembodied fingers and lips brushing against him. In school, you were taught to create a completely fictional person in your head so that you wouldn’t project onto someone else. It was common courtesy to stop a Fantasy when you feel yourself slip into one, but a lot of people weren’t that courteous.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [(not so) Pure Imagination](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2272167) by [theroguesgambit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theroguesgambit/pseuds/theroguesgambit). 



> Inspired by theroguesgambit's "Object and a Dream" 'verse that I absolutely love!!!
> 
> This is my first Shameless fic and my first multi-chaptered fic.   
> Not beta read! All mistakes are my own.

Mickey hated being an Object. He hated feeling disembodied fingers and lips brushing against him. In school, you were taught to create a completely fictional person in your head so that you wouldn’t project onto someone else. It was common courtesy to stop a Fantasy when you feel yourself slip into one, but a lot of people weren’t that courteous.

Growing up, he always heard his brothers talking – bragging – about the Fantasies they felt on any given day. They’d compare their experiences and try to figure out who the Dreamers were. If they liked the Fantasy enough, they would start one of their own and push it back at that Dreamer. On occasion, if they figured out who their Dreamer was, they would offer to turn the Fantasies into realities. They sang nothing but praises about being an Object.

Even Mandy didn’t really seem to have a problem with it. Yeah, sometimes she bitched about creeps and old dudes – “Like, honestly, why can’t they stick to their own damn generation?” – but that was it.

His father said that indulging in Fantasies was a healthy part of becoming a man. That they were a good way to “play the field” and decide what girls were worth his time. The biggest problem with that – aside from the fact that anything out of his dad’s mouth about Fantasies made his skin crawl – was that Mickey was gay. But no one knew that. His life depended on no one ever finding out.

Terry Milkovich was a homophobic, abusive, neo-nazi, known for “fag-bashing” back in their hometown. He was feared in Chicago’s South Side. If his father ever found out he was gay, Mickey was a dead man walking. The thing about Terry was, he was also a great actor. He played the doting father, the father who took care of four kids after the death of his wife. He played the dedicated, loving, functional member of society so damn well. That’s how he was able to land a job as the head coach of the university’s baseball team. Granted, he knew his shit when it came to most sports but, if you asked Mickey, he wasn’t head coach material. As the coach, Terry had the power and respect that his narcissistic personality craved and, even better, as an employee of the college, his kids got to attend the university on scholarships. The Milkovich kids never expected to go to college so they were a bit skeptical but still jumped at the chance.

When they were kids, their mother told them to always do their best in school so that, one day, they could have to chance to get scholarships for college. Their mother had been accepting, and even encouraging, of her children’s likes and aspirations. Like the fact that Iggy was great at math, Colin loved taking things apart to see how they worked, Mandy wanted to be a teacher, and Mickey loved art.

After Mickey’s mother died, Terry went into a tail-spin. It was like she was the only thing keeping the man clinging to the single strand of sanity that he had left. Terry drowned his sorrows in alcohol and took out his aggressions on his kids.

Unlike their mother, Terry didn’t give a shit about what his kids wanted, especially when it came to picking a college major. He would always tell them that they should be grateful to him that they were even going to college and forced them all to be Business majors, whether they liked it or not.

He even went a step further and made Iggy, Colin, and Mickey to try out for the baseball team even though the team was full and all the players were there on scholarships. Iggy and Colin were deemed good enough to be put on the “back-up roster” but Mickey was not. Mickey was a failure to his father. Hell, between his lack of athletic prowess and his love of “that faggy art shit,” Mickey was one wrong move away from being disowned. The only thing saving him right now was the fast that it would make Terry look bad.

The only real leeway Terry gave them was that, as long as they kept their GPA above 3.25, they could choose whatever minor they wanted. This just translated into reason for Terry to bitch about his youngest son. Mandy, being the only girl, was pretty safe from Terry’s criticism and she still clung to her desire to be a teacher so she picked an Education minor. The boys were pressed to pick “strong, usable, acceptable” minors. Iggy was always liked numbers so he picked Accounting. Colin, who preferred hands-on work, picked Automotive Technology. Mickey, who got a creative brain from his mother, chose Art.

When Terry found out, he stormed in the house drunk and screaming at Mickey about wasting his time on that “girly, pussy shit” and told him that the following day he was going to go back to the Admissions Office and change his minor. Mickey’s instinct yelled at him to not argue but he didn’t listen.

“No, I’m not,” Mickey had said.

“Excuse me?” The bite in Terry’s voice made his three other kids stiffen. Mickey swallowed, steeled himself, and spoke again.

“I’m not going to change it. You told me that I could pick my minor and I did. Are you going back on what you said?” Mickey knew he was playing with fire but he was expecting to get burned. “I thought men didn’t go back on their word?”

That night wasn’t the first nor the last time that Mickey went to bed bloody and bruised.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a super exciting chapter but I wanted to bring Ian in. 
> 
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.

Mickey was so damn glad that his day, that his week, was almost over. He hated the first days of the semester. When the professors in his smaller classes made everyone in the class introduce themselves, he kind of went on autopilot: “Hi, my name is Mickey. I’m a junior. I’m a Business major with a minor in Art.” The whole thing just made him want to headbutt the wall. Thankfully, his last class of the week was a History lecture and there would be too many people for the stupid student introductions.

Currently, he was sitting in the packed lecture hall between the wall on his left and Mandy on his right, listening to the professor blab about the syllabus and course schedule. He liked sitting against the wall and as far back as he could get because that meant the fewest people at his back. It also meant fewer people saw him or would pay attention to him and so there was less of a chance he would star in a Fantasy. He made a point to not put a lot of effort in how he looked, wearing baggy clothes and not styling his hair at all. He hoped that, plus his perpetual scowl, would make his less of a target. The main flaw with that plan was that girls had a weird obsession with the “bad boy” persona and his “fuck u-up” tattoos basically dropped him pretty solidly into that category. And when they found out he was an art student? He just turned into the bad boy with a secret soft side. Christ, it was like he was a walking cliché.

And if one more person asks him to draw them like one of his French girls, he was going to flip a table.

It was a blessing and a curse that he didn’t get Fantasies from guys. After the incident last year, when Colin almost got in trouble for punching a guy he suspected had a Fantasy about him and almost breaking his nose, no guy dares bring a male Milkovich into any of their Fantasies. It’s great because that means less Fantasies that Mickey ha to deal with but at least there was a chance he would enjoy those.

 He was dragged from his thoughts when the lecture hall door squeaked open. Mickey didn’t bother looking up to see the poor bastard who was forced to sit next to Mandy, the only open seat left, and endure her exaggerated flirting and “accidental” touching. She was harmless, really, but it was still vomit-inducing for Mickey to witness.

“Nice of you to join us,” the professor shot at the new-comer.

“Uh, yeah,” a male voice stuttered, “Sorry. I-”

“I don’t care. Take your seat,” he waved a hand in Mandy’s general direction before turning back to his laptop and pulling up the next slide.

“Don’t worry too much about him,” Mandy whispered to the new guy as he slid into the seat next to her. “He’s not always like that. I think the stick up his ass is just at an awkward angle today.”

“Is that why he’s walking like that?” he whispered back.

Mandy slapped her hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter and completely undignified snort. Mickey found a small smirk playing as his lips as well.

“Attractive and funny, a wicked combo. I’m Mandy. What’s your name, gorgeous?” Mandy purred. One day, Mickey was going to roll his eyes so hard that he’d go blind.

“Ian.”

“Well, Ian. Welcome to History of the American City. One of the most boring history classes offered here but an easy GPA bump if you just do the work. Professor Lee acts like a hardass but he’s an exceptionally easy grader.”

“Good to know. Are you a History major?”

“Nah,” Mandy scrunched her nose at the thought. “Business major with an Education minor. You?”

“English, no minor. Although, I was thinking of-”

Mickey forced himself to ignore the rest of their conversation and he managed to make it through the entire end class without looking away from the professor or his slides while Mandy and Ian continued to whisper back and forth.

When the professor dismissed them, all 200 students packed up and shuffled their way to the doors and out of the building. Being this close to so many strangers put Mickey’s teeth on edge and when they got outside and into the sun, Mickey rolled his shoulders and felt some tension that he was holding slip away.

“So, who’s the ray of sunshine next to you?”

“This is my brother, Mickey. He’s a bit of a social dumpster fire. Say ‘hello,’ Mickey.”

Mickey grunted in response and resolutely didn’t look up, instead focusing on picking dried paint off his hands.

“Charming,” Ian deadpanned.

Mickey looked up to shoot him a glare and his breath caught in his throat. Mandy was right. This guy is hot. The mid-afternoon sun brought out the natural highlights and tints in his fiery hair and made flecks of gold glimmer in his green eyes. Mickey’s fingers twitched, begging to draw the angles and planes and shadows of his face. Seriously, those cheekbones and that jawline? A dangerous mix. He wondered if he could ever find a paint or pencil that would even come close to the colorful reality standing in front of him. He realized he was staring when Ian raised a brow at him.

“I see what you mean,” he chuckled to Mandy. His eyes flicked to her, a small smile playing at his lips. He looked almost, dare Mickey say, _fond_. “I’m happy I got to sit next to the talkative one, then,” he laughed.

Mickey’s glare returned full-force. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? Was he seriously trying to flirt with his sister right in front of him?

“Well, aren’t you adorable,” Mandy smiled back. She grabbed a pen out of her bag and reached for Ian’s hand before scribbling onto his palm. “That’s my number. Text me and we can talk some more,” she winked and turned to Mickey. “Come on, Mick. Let’s go, before you glare a hole in my new friend’s head,” Mandy said, all but dragging him away from a chuckling Ian. “Later, Gorgeous!” she called over her shoulder.

Lying in bed that night, Mickey was surprised when he first felt _tentative touches trailing down his arm_. He was used to feeling small Fantasies here and there but usually, when he was an Object, the Fantasies were half-formed and quick but sure and steady. Nails raking down his chest, the press of a body against his, a tight, wet heat wrapped around his dick. They had an endgame and a plan to get there. But the careful, seemingly shy, ones? Completely new to him.

What was even more surprising what that the fingers didn’t feel feminine. They were long and thin but definitely male.

 _They moved slowly down his arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and then back up._ And then they were gone.

“Who the hell?” Mickey whispered under his breath. What guy would have a Fantasy about him? Especially one that innocent. Maybe it was an accident. That would explain how fast it disappeared. But can you accidentally have a Fantasy?

He spent another half hour staring at the ceiling, wondering if the Fantasy would come back before chalking it up as an accidental Fantasy, rolling over, and going to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> History of the American City is an actual class and I'm currently taking it and I hate it. It's boring and I don't like the professor voice so I'm happy the semester is almost over.
> 
> Like all writers, I thrive on feedback!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Have a good day!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so very sorry that this one update took so damn long. A lot of shit happened after I started this fic and I've lost most of my motivation and inspiration surrounding it. I'm trying sooooo hard not to abandon this. I really wanted to get /something/ added to this in hopes it would push me to continue it, so this happened. I have ideas for later scenes but am in the dark about how to get to them.
> 
> This chapter falls a little while after Chap 2 left off (maybe a month or two) just to give you a little bit of a timeline.
> 
> As always unbetad. All mistakes are mine.

He was standing in front of a blank canvas when _phantom fingers spread over the tension in his shoulders._

Mickey quickly shrugged off the Dreamer and focused back on the assignment he was supposed to be working on. The same assignment he actually had finished earlier that week but then his dad got drunk and started spewing the same old shit about how stupid Mickey’s art was and poured the rest of his beer over the painted canvas. For a minute, Mickey debated on turning the painting in like that just to see what his professor said but figured the backlash from that would be worse than just redoing it.

_Thumbs pressed into the knots on either side of the nape of his neck and a kiss brushed just under his hairline. Mickey’s shoulders eased under the ministrations and-_

He can’t deal with this right now. His dad’s out in the other room already itching to beat Mickey’s head in for putting so much time and effort into his art projects. If only he knew his faggot son was taking comfort from a Dreamer, a Dreamer he still didn’t know.

His eyes stung, angry tears threatening to burn their way down his cheeks. He was not going to cry. He was not going to cry. Damn it, he was _not_ going to cry. The canvas blurs and warps in front of him, taunting him. He swiped his brush carelessly across his palate without looking and brought it up in harsh, haphazard strokes. Over and over he smeared the ugly mix of color on the pure, clean space. Am I still thinking too much, Dad? he thought, sneering down at the paint. Am I still putting too much time into this?

_Hands brushed down his back and a nose pressed into his hair, warm breath ghosting over his neck._

_Mickey whirled on the Dreamer and shoved them away, rubbing away angry tears that escaped. He feels like he’s vibrating out of his skin and he just can’t fucking do this right now._

_His Dreamer surprises him by wrapping their arms around him. They dragged him into a fierce embrace. One that, from anyone else, would make Mickey feel trapped and caged but he finds himself relaxing into those strong arms._

“Are you done in there yet, pussy?” Terry’s voice slurred from the kitchen, shocking him out of the Fantasy like ice water. “Don’t think that fucking lame excuse for homework is gonna get you out of going to that party with your brothers. Told them you couldn’t come home unless you got laid.” He laughed at his own sick joke and it had Mickey’s skin crawling.

_His Dreamer – no,_ The Dreamer _, not his – tightened his hold and enveloped him back into the softness of the Fantasy. Anger boiling in his gut, he shook his head and fought against the hug, against this comfort he didn’t deserve. He made the Dreamer’s hands curl into fists. One balled in the front of his shirt and the other poised, ready to strike his already bruised face._

_Just a breath away from his wet, tear-stained cheek, the fist unclenched and wrapped softly around the back of his neck. The Dreamer pulled and gently pressed their foreheads together and the angle made Mickey realize how much taller the Dreamer was than him. He felt breath across his face like the Dreamer was talking to him and found himself wishing he could hear the words. A phantom thumb brushed away a stray tear._

For the first time, Mickey wants to kiss his Dreamer. He _ached_ to know who thought he was worth all this effort. He wants to know who thinks he deserves this comfort and these soft touches.

_The thumb that wiped his tears came to rest at the corner of his mouth and he was being pulled into a kiss. A kiss that was so damn soft and hesitant that Mickey didn’t know what to do. The Dreamer didn’t make him reciprocate, just brushed their soft lips against his chapped one, like they knew he was just as nervous as they seemed to be._

Fuck it, Mickey thought.

_He swayed forward, pressing hard into the kiss for a second before pulling away and pulling out of the Fantasy completely._

“Who the fuck are you?” Mickey whispered, bringing paint-stained fingertips up to his lips to chase the lingering pressure he felt there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!
> 
> Feedback and comments are very much appreciated! Like, seriously, anything.


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